


Provided You Shelter Me With Your Love

by thepizzasitter



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Bard wears something of Thranduil's, Barduil - Freeform, Caring Thranduil, Dirty Talk, Elvish endearments are the best, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hair-pulling, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Love Bites, M/M, Public Display of Affection, Romance, Smitten Bard, Teasing, and Thranduil greatly approves, bet there were a bunch of townsfolk like whoa better look away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:42:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3240074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepizzasitter/pseuds/thepizzasitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The coat had definitely seen better days. Certainly, those days were long past, and Bard’s coat had been ragged for a number of years now, but admittedly this time...it looked like it was going to be beyond even Sigrid’s help.</p><p>'Does the new King of Dale not take a covering for himself?'”</p><p>In which a gift is given, accepted, and repaid in full. Bowmen are notorious for keeping the playing field even.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Provided You Shelter Me With Your Love

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I wrote when I really looked at and noticed how scruffy Bard's coat was in the films. It made me think about Thranduil's enjoyment of creature comforts and how he would want to lavish them and his attentions on the new king ;3 It's more a drabble than anything, but I decided to post it for your entertainment. For additional fics, drabbles, cosplay, and more, please check out my Tumblr (kesstiel.tumblr.com) Have an adventure filled day!

The coat had definitely seen better days.

Certainly, those days were long past, and Bard’s coat had been ragged for a number of years now, but admittedly this time...it looked like it was going to be beyond even Sigrid’s help.

Bard looked up towards the grey light of the day and shivered, knowing it would be the first of many to come. Winter was settling in comfortably, and in doing so, was making the people of Dale rather _un_ comfortable as they scurried to rebuild as much as possible before the bitter sting of icy wind drove them to take shelter in whatever structures were still standing.

The wind, as if in reply to his grim thoughts, whipped across the marketplace, and he grit his teeth against the chill, wrapping one arm tighter around himself while he continued to pass out blankets to the people of the city-- _his_ city, soon enough. Far _too_ soon. It seemed fitting to him that someone so ill-suited to the throne had nary a decent coat to his name. A tattered and wretched bargeman he was. King’s material, he most certainly was not.

“Does the new King of Dale not take a covering for himself?”

Ah, and here was one who often and vehemently disagreed about his reluctance to take the throne. He smiled and turned to greet Thranduil, feeling just a bit warmer merely looking at his friend. It might be folly to consider the ethereal and eternal being as such, but Bard had never been one to refrain from reaching for whatever scraps of kindness were given to him. The elvenking had come in his people’s time of dire need to offer aid and alliance, and whatever the elf thought of their relationship, Bard would forever look upon him as the closest of confidantes and friends. If he longed for something beyond that, well, Thranduil’s presence was more than enough to sustain him for now. No need to ruin a good thing with his selfishness.

“I’m afraid there are simply not enough, my lord. I do not know how other kings go about their rule, but I do not fancy the idea of taking resources before my people. Without me, they can gain a new ruler. Without them, I am lost. Truly, my only power rests within them, and I would freeze a thousand times before I let any of them suffer in my stead,” he replied honestly.

The elf looked at him with a barely there smile, something like respect spreading across his beautiful face. Bard blushed and had to look down for fear of making a fool of himself.

“You certainly do not cease to surprise me, Dragonslayer. I’ll admit I find your hesitance to think yourself worthy of your title astonishing, considering the way you govern them even when you yourself are injured and victim to the earth’s fury.”

“It is nothing any of them wouldn’t do. My wounds are superficial at most, anyways,” Bard murmured, wishing he could be the leader they needed now. His shivering was escalating, every shudder rattling his very bones in a painful manner. He closed his eyes and rallied himself, trying to ignore the way he was hurting so sharply. “Now, tell me what I might do for a Lord of Elves?”

Thranduil’s expression faltered, just barely. The smiled disappeared and his brow furrowed. Bard cursed himself for a fool, wondering what he had done to take away such a lovely expression as the one he’d just seen.

“For one thing, I would greatly appreciate you using my name, if you count us as the friends I think we have become. For another, I would see you warm and fed. The forest whispers to me, secrets of a terrible storm that will descend in only a few days time. I do not relish the idea of that ragged scrap of a coat being the only thing that stands between you and the weather’s vicious bite.” 

Bard picked at a hole in his coat, knowing what kind of vagabond he must look like to the elvenking. “I do not own another, my lor--Thranduil. And I must ask that you use my name in turn, then, if I am to be given the honor of using yours.”

“Of course, Bard,” Thranduil murmured, and Bard’s heart squeezed and skipped a beat at the way the elf’s voice wrapped around his name. “Permit me then to remedy your impoverished state, bowman. I cannot allow my favored allies to be so ill cared for.”

“No, you’ve already done so mu--” Bard stuttered to a stop when the elvenking unclasped his own fur lined cloak and stepped up close to the bowman. Bard’s wide eyes held Thranduil’s as the garment was draped over his shoulders gently.

“I insist, Bard,” Thranduil said quietly, redoing the clasp. “I’d feel more at ease knowing that you are not so exposed to the elements.” He remained close, taking in the sight of Bard wrapped in his cloak. Heat stirred low in his belly, and he tilted his head, smiling just a bit. “It suits you more so than I, in any case. You wear it well.”

The blush that bloomed across Bard’s face was most becoming, Thranduil thought, as was the grin he received when he stepped back. “You stand to gain very little with your flattery, my lord,” Bard teased. “I’d not repay such pretty words with your own cloak.”

Thranduil hummed his agreement, and reached up to curl a strand of Bard’s hair around his finger, breath catching at the way Bard’s lips parted and his eyes burned with something more fierce than dragonfire.

“Perhaps I do not seek coin and gems as payment for my words, Dragonslayer,” Thranduil replied, releasing the piece of hair to fall back against Bard’s neck. “ _Tula sinome,_ ,” he commanded softly.

“Then I will ask again,” Bard said, stepping forward until there was naught but a sliver of air between them. “What might I do for a Lord of Elves?”

He took Thranduil’s hands in his own and drew them beneath his borrowed cloak, to slip under the worn edges of his shirt. His skin was already warming beneath the elf’s fingers, and Thranduil let out a soft sigh as he felt the firm line of Bard’s waist before he slipped them up to travel up his strong back. They were pressed against each other like this, and the elvenking thought that if he could not have the bargeman, warm and cared for in his bed this very night, he might go mad with this need.

“See how well your cloak services me, Thranduil? Surely you understand that I must repay such a generous gift,” Bard murmured thoughtfully.

Thranduil’s eyelids fluttered shut when a gentle mouth brushed against his neck, placing small kisses along the pale column to nip at the underside of his jaw. He tipped his head to the side a little more, letting Bard have his way until he could bear it no longer.

“And what would you offer me in return, bowman?” Thranduil asked, fingers sliding through the thick hair at the back of Bard’s head to hold him there. “I must admit I rather hope it has something to do with finishing what you are insisting be started.”

Bard pretended to deliberate for a moment, before he smirked and leaned back. Thranduil tugged at his hair a little in retaliation and he moaned quietly, shivers traveling up his spine. “I suppose that depends on what you want most, my king. You may bring me to my knees, if you wish it, or perhaps I can best satisfy our debt on my back. Anything you can think of is yours to demand.” He leaned up and traced the pointed edge of Thranduil’s ear with his tongue, relishing in the sharp keen that the elf barely stifled when he bit down at its point. Thranduil was panting, pupils blown and his body trembled with the force of his desire.

“I would have you take me, Bard,” he whispered, voice wrecked as he thought of Bard’s hands on him. All thoughts of the cold had fled them both, their heated words tinder for the fire beneath their skin. “I would have you pleasure me, make me writhe beneath you, until I am wild with my need for you. And then I would have you hold me down and push into me ‘til I can do naught but scream for satiation. Your body shall bargain with mine, _astalder_. My satisfaction shall be your payment.”

Bard’s eyes closed and he swallowed, hips pressing once against Thranduil’s while those maddening hands dipped closer to the edge of his breeches. “What of your guards? Will they not hear your cries?”

“Do you object if they do?”

Bard growled low in his throat. He began to back up in the direction of Thranduil’s tent, crooking a finger at the elvenking in supplication.

“Will you have me now, then, Bard, King of Dale? Will you lay me upon your fine cloak, fulfill your debt, and make me yours?”

“Aye, love.” He grinned, and pulled Thranduil in for a kiss, heated promise in his voice. “I think that can be arranged.”


End file.
